The Runner

Sleep’s reject is running an hour or more
before it can properly be called morning.
At Gold Park, a young deer eats grass
near the edge of the playground.
It will be long gone by the time
of the regular joggers and dog walkers.

The runner knows how night’s calm
can engender turmoil, thoughts wild
and racing, a deer chased by a wolf.
The twisted sheets, the in-and-out of bed. 
A literal journey towards lost sleep,
its milestones the magazine splayed,
the cup with milk residue, the open bottle of pills
by the bathroom sink.  The watch that ticked
off the seconds that sleep did not show its face,
chronicling the passage of night
though she perceived no lightening
of the sky, no shift in the position of stars.

Pink tinges the horizon,
the runner now an arm’s length away,
yet the deer keeps eating, as if it’s forgotten
the rules.  As if it’s realized how much fear
is irrational, like the fear of not sleeping,
which drives the not-sleeping, the dread
setting in at bedtime despite dreadful fatigue.
The deer watches the runner calmly,
wolf though she may be.  Making her think
about peace somewhere in night’s far reach.
Making her think perhaps she, too,
could stop running.

MORROW DOWDLE’s most recent publishing credits include The Baltimore Review, Oyster River Pages, and Adanna Literary Journal. Her first chapbook, Nature v. Nurture was released in 2018 by Artagem Graphic Library. Dowdle’s poetry has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net awards. Dowdle has also written a graphic novel, An Unlikely Refugee, which now has a permanent exhibit at the North Carolina Museum of Natural Sciences. In addition to writing, Dowdle works as a physician assistant in mental health.